Growing Evergreens

She opened not her mouth to speak,
"Is it life or is it me?"
And I was foolish, yet again,
I thought I could choose both.

Life is proven by suffering,
And if that amounts to anything,
My world is dense with someone else's,
Life as thick as evergreens.

If heat is opposite to cold,
Then why do I often feel both,
When tucked into my cozy bed,
Where memories can strangle?

If touching is allowed in dreams,
And offers me a place to be,
Who am I to turn away,
And betray them with my opened eyes?

Hope need not be warranted,
I'm going down, I'm seeing red,
I justify, declaring reason,
I've had this dream before.

If words I hear do not exist,
And my ears don't try to resist,
I am foolish, yet again,
To hear what is not spoken.

I claim to kill to keep surviving,
When casualties are all my conniving,
Scratchy faces of the past,
That haunt for lack of better choices.

She opened not her mouth to speak,
"Is it life or is it me?"
And I was foolish, yet again,
I thought I could choose both.